


Political Asylum

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia has been plunged into potential chaos, and Tsarina Elisaveta has had to escape at all speed.  She is trying to get to England for safety, but she is originally Polish, and she insists on having a Polish speaker to escort her there if at all possible.</p>
<p>Gil doesn't think he has a Polish speaker on Castle Wulfenbach.  But if you want to find one, it's always a good idea to ask someone who used to be a master spy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Political Asylum

**Author's Note:**

> For those who have not read the previous stories involving the Russian contingent, Tsarina Elisaveta was previously known as Princess Sylwia of Poland, but she took a Russian name shortly after marrying Tsar Arkadii. She is the sister of King Wladyslaw.

I knew from the hasty sound of the knock on my office door that something was likely to be very wrong. “Come in!” I called.

Pavel Ivanovich Kuchtanin, the Russian Ambassador, my friend, hurried into the office. He looked as white as a sheet. This, then, was not merely something very wrong, or he would have sent one of his staff to tell me rather than coming round himself. This was an international calamity.

“Pavel Ivanovich,” I said, standing to greet him. “Please. Sit down and calm yourself before you speak.”

He sank into a chair. “I think I shall never be calm again,” he replied hollowly. “Tsar Arkadii has been assassinated.”

“Dear Lord in heaven,” I said, sitting down heavily myself. “Please let that be a false rumour.”

“No, no, I assure you, it is true. I wish I did not have to tell you that.”

I rang the bell on my desk, and one of the staff appeared. “If we have any vodka in the place,” I said, “please bring some.”

“Thank you,” said Kuchtanin, with feeling. “And the Tsarina has disappeared. We fear she may be dead too, especially given the fact that she is...” He paused delicately. “That there will soon be a new heir to the throne of Russia.”

“If Arkadii has been assassinated, Elisaveta will certainly not be safe,” I said. “If she is alive, we must find her and get her out of Russia until we know it is safe for her to return. Would you like me to see if our Intelligence Service can do anything?”

“That is a kind offer; but there is reason to think that, if she is alive, she may be out of Russia already.”

I nodded. “Then she is likely to have gone back to Poland. However, that is where her enemies will look for her; therefore, if she is reasonably intelligent, she will have gone anywhere other than Poland. I have met her only briefly, and she had little to say. How intelligent do you think she is, Pavel Ivanovich?”

He considered. “In some respects, I should say very. She has the Spark, as you know; and, given who her mother was, I imagine she is no stranger to intrigue. But she is no linguist. She struggles even with Russian, and that is quite close to Polish.”

The vodka arrived, together with two glasses. I had a very small one myself, partly to take the edge off the shock and partly out of politeness to keep Kuchtanin company. Kuchtanin's glass of vodka was by no means small.

“If I can find her,” I said, “I could certainly get her to England. That would be the safest place she could possibly be, and naturally she would be very welcome there. I will put out an alert.”

Kuchtanin took another gulp of vodka and nodded. “Thank you. If you are able to do that, it would put all our minds as far at rest as they can be.”

“And what of the situation in Moscow?” I asked. “Who has taken over?”

“A distant cousin of the Tsar, one Vassilii Andreyevich Andropov.”

I stared at him. “What? Princess Orlov's son?”

“Oh, no, Ardsley. Princess Orlov's stepson. Her husband had been married before.” My face must have been a study, for he continued, “Nobody is blaming the Princess for what he has done. I very much doubt she could have stopped him. From what I understand, he barely listens to his father, let alone his stepmother.”

“I hope you are right, because there will be many people who are still loyal to Arkadii and his family, and I don't expect them all to take such a reasonable view,” I said. “Pavel Ivanovich, this is as bad as things could get. For you, too, I imagine.”

“Yes; for me too. I am Arkadii's man to the marrow, and so it is no longer safe for me to set foot in Russia.”

I know what it is to be exiled for years. I nodded sympathetically.

“I will do all I can to help,” I promised; “and, in the meantime, my home in England is open to you. It is not Russia. I know that. But it is, at least, somewhere other than this when you need it.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You are a good friend. And your country is a good ally.”

The moment he had gone, I ran to my flyer to take the dreadful news up to Gil. I found him, as ever, in his laboratory.

“Oh, Ardsley!” he said. “Come and have a look at this, will you? I'm rather pleased with it...” He broke off. “Sweet lightning. Your face. Who's died?”

“You are really not going to like this, Gil,” I warned him.

He visibly relaxed. “You wouldn't say that if it was one of your family, so I'm guessing we're in international politics here. All right. I can take that. Who is it? Not the Pope?”

“No. I'm afraid it's Arkadii. He's been assassinated. I wouldn't have believed it, only I've just this moment had Kuchtanin in the Embassy, very upset. He must have got through a quarter of a bottle of vodka.”

“Oh, God,” said Gil.

“I said you weren't going to like it,” I said, grimly.

“So who are we dealing with now?”

“Princess Orlov's stepson, of all people,” I replied. “Vassilii Andreyevich Andropov.”

“Was he behind the assassination, or is he just a puppet?” asked Gil. “I don't even know the name. Hold on. Rather than asking you a lot of questions, I'd better go and see what we do know about him. Let's go and see Donatella.”

Donatella Marchesi had taken over from Boris on his retirement as Gil's chief administrator. She was as competent as Boris had been, although much less highly strung; unfortunately, I was fairly sure I was never going to get on with her the way I had ended up doing with Boris. There were... reasons for that.

“Ah,” I said. “Do you need me to be present?”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Gil snapped. “They're just pictures. And you probably have something useful to contribute, especially since you do actually know who this usurper is, which is more than I did.”

“Well, not really. Kuchtanin had to tell me he was the Princess' stepson, not her son,” I replied. “I knew he was Andropov's son from the name, but other than that...”

“Look, take your spectacles off if they bother you that much,” said Gil. “Come on, Ardsley. Move.” He paused. “And, besides, it's not even as if they're actually indecent. It's an office, after all.”

“No, they're not,” I agreed. “In fact, taken individually, they're all quite artistic. It's not so much the pictures themselves as... the sort of person who wants to decorate her office exclusively with male nudes, frankly.”

“Yes, all right, so she's lecherous. But she isn't lecherous at you,” Gil pointed out. “You're not her type.”

“If I thought I was, I wouldn't set foot in her office at all,” I replied.

Gil raised an eyebrow. “But you can defend yourself very easily,” he said.

“I know I can. That's not the point. The point is what would happen if I told Lucilla I'd had to.”

Gil grinned. “Ah. Yes. I would not want your excellent wife to come up here and spit-roast my chief administrator.”

Gil tapped briefly on the door of Donatella's office, and we walked in without waiting for a reply. “Oh,” she purred. “Herr Baron! And your lordship... good morning.”

I was staring at the wall behind her. “Oh, you like my new calendar?” she enquired sweetly. “It's all in a good cause. They sell them for the Mechanicsburg Widows' and Orphans' Fund.”

“That's... that's Maxim,” I said, faintly.

“Yes, it's all Jägers, and what handsome boys they are too,” she said. “So you know him? What is he like?”

“Happily married,” I replied.

“Oh. What a pity. Still,” she added, in a brighter voice, “clearly he doesn't mind being looked at.”

“Could we actually get down to some business here?” asked Gil. “Donatella, stop smirking, and Ardsley, do for goodness' sake stop looking as though you've just been slapped across the face with a haddock. Tsar Arkadii has been assassinated.”

I still wished we were dealing with Boris, but at least Donatella snapped briskly to attention. “When? How? By whom?”

We gave her all the details between us, and when I mentioned the name of the usurper, she frowned. “I'm not sure we have anything on him,” she said. “The name doesn't ring any bells.”

“No, and it wouldn't have done with me if I hadn't happened to know his stepmother and be aware that she is married to an Andrei Andropov; I forget his patronymic, but it may be Alexeyevich. It was something with an A, in any case,” I replied. “Not that it's important. I am not sure we need to know anything much about him. Kuchtanin doesn't think he has much influence over his son.”

Donatella was checking through her files. “No. We have no Andropovs at all. How do you know his stepmother, my lord?”

“I saved her life many years ago in Paris. She is the Princess Orlov; still the Princess Orlov, as she kept her name when she married. _That_ name you will certainly have in your files, but I doubt it will help us.”

She nodded. “I know the name, yes. But if she is only his stepmother, you are probably right.”

“It's beginning to sound as though someone else has plenty of influence on him, even if his father and stepmother don't,” said Gil. “Presumably he's quite a young man, though he may still be older than Arkadii was. We don't have anything on him, which suggests that he hasn't been quietly building up a web of influence of his own anywhere. He's a distant relative of Arkadii's. What all this is saying to me is that someone else is using him for their own ends.”

I nodded. “Yes. I completely agree with that, Gil. What's worse, that someone else is far from obvious.”

“And we need to find out,” said Gil. “In the meantime, what about the Tsarina?”

“I wondered when you were going to ask that,” I replied. “They don't know. Presumed either dead or escaped; but if they haven't found her, my hunch would be the latter. If someone assassinates a Tsar and leaves his body for all to find, they will do the same to the Tsarina if they can, and if there's no body to be found, that almost certainly means they didn't succeed.” I paused. “And... Kuchtanin informs me that there is to be an heir. That, of course, increases the stakes considerably.”

Gil frowned. “Where would she have gone? Back to Poland?”

“I think not,” I said. “They'll be looking for her there. But apparently she is no linguist, and that is going to make things difficult for her.”

There was a tap at the door. I opened it, being nearest, and a harassed-looking minion almost fell into the room.

“Herr Baron!” he gasped. “Frau Schwertlicht is here and wants to see you as a matter of urgency.”

“What?” said Gil. “Why the hell is she not...? oh. Stupid question. I can think of several very good reasons she's not in Moscow. Come on, Ardsley. And you, Donatella.”

He walked swiftly along the corridor after the minion, his long coat billowing and flapping as he went. I still walk quickly, but I found I had to scurry a little to keep up with him, though my legs are longer than his. “She did well to get out so fast,” he said. “I hope your diplomatic staff did the same. Anyone hostile to Arkadii is more than likely to think Russia doesn't need an alliance with either us or you.”

“They'll have used their own initiative,” I replied. “They know what's happening on the ground better than we do. But why Frau Schwertlicht? She's not actually your Ambassador, is she?”

“No, she's one of the senior diplomatic staff,” Gil replied. “But presumably... oh well. We'll find out soon enough what's going on when we see her.”

Frau Schwertlicht was waiting for us in Gil's study. She was small, dark, and very self-possessed.

“I apologise for the breach of protocol, Herr Baron,” she said. “I should, of course, have come looking for you rather than asking for you to be brought here. However, there is a very good reason for that.” She looked at the rest of us. “Who are these people?”

Gil waved away the minion. “This is Donatella Marchesi, my chief administrator. You will have corresponded with her, I'm sure, though you have not previously met in person. And this is Ardsley, Lord Heversham, the British Ambassador to the Empire.”

She relaxed. “Ah. Good! Lord Heversham, do you speak either Russian or Polish?”

“I speak both fluently,” I replied.

“Excellent! Then you had better meet Tsarina Elisaveta.”

I was too taken aback to explain that we had, in fact, already met. Frau Schwertlicht opened the door to Gil's stationery cupboard, and out walked the Tsarina herself. She was dressed in a simple black stuff gown and coloured shawl, the sort of clothing which would pass completely unremarked on the streets of Moscow. She must have had it ready and waiting, I realised, just in case of such a contingency; either she knew that there might be some danger, or, more likely, Arkadii had insisted in advance that she should have it in case such a thing ever happened. It would have been so very like him.

“Sweet lightning,” said Gil.

“You... know about her husband?” asked Frau Schwertlicht. We nodded. “Very well. As soon as she saw what had happened, she ran to me and asked me to bring her here. She wants to go to England, where she will be safe until she can regroup and find a way to put Arkadii's heir on the throne. But she thought someone might expect her to try that, and therefore she is doing so by way of Castle Wulfenbach. By the time anyone works out that she came here, she should – if you are able to help us, my lord – be safely in England.”

“That is remarkably good tactical thinking in a crisis,” I said. “And I shall be both delighted and honoured to help.” I switched to Polish and repeated, more or less, what I had just said. The Tsarina smiled at me gratefully.

“What about the rest of the diplomatic staff?” asked Gil. “Are they still in Moscow?”

“Yes, but the situation is being closely monitored,” replied Frau Schwertlicht. “Any sign of danger, and they will be out, I assure you. At the moment, things are uncertain, and naturally if there is any hope of preserving the alliance we would wish to do so.”

“It is likely to be very much the same with ours,” I said. “What do you know about this man Andropov?”

“I was about to ask that myself,” said Gil.

“Very little,” replied Frau Schwertlicht. “I believe he is no more than a pawn; but I do not know in whose hands.”

“Well,” said Gil. “If you're going to get her to England, Ardsley – for which I too, I have to say, am extremely grateful – then I think it might be a very good idea to do that right now. I can hardly hide foreign royalty in my stationery cupboard for any length of time, especially not given the fact that the rightful heir to the Russian throne looks like showing up at any moment. I'm a ruler, not a midwife.”

“Yes, er... I do see your point, Gil,” I said. “I'll go down to the Embassy and arrange something at once.” I switched to Polish again. “Your Imperial Majesty, I am about to arrange travel for you to England. You will be leaving here as soon as I can get you a flyer.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She looked as though she was very close to tears, and I could hardly blame the poor woman; she had not only just lost her husband, but if she had not thought very quickly, she would almost certainly be dead herself by now. “Please, will you be coming with me?”

I blinked. “I'm afraid that's not possible,” I replied. “I have to remain on duty here. But I will see to it that you have a good and trustworthy escort.”

“But you speak Polish,” she said. “And I speak no English at all. Do you have someone else who can speak Polish?”

“I... to be honest, I don't know the answer to that question, Your Imperial Majesty,” I replied, “but I will do my best for you. You are in safe hands now. Be at peace.” I switched back to German. “Gil, have you anyone who speaks Polish? She needs an escort.”

Gil frowned. “I very much doubt it,” he said. “I mean, for goodness' sake, we were at war with Poland not so long ago, and well you know it.”

I stood not upon the order of my going. I almost ran back to my flyer, thinking hard. If we had nobody who could speak Polish, and I frankly doubted we had, then I would have to find someone elsewhere. There was what had been the Polish Embassy here, but it had not been occupied since the war, although Gil was now in negotiations with King Wladyslaw with the aim of re-establishing some kind of diplomatic relations. Possibly Kuchtanin had someone; but then, that might be tricky. I would certainly tell Kuchtanin what was happening for the sake of his own peace of mind, but I felt it would be unwise to allow it to go any further. With matters as they were, there were likely to be some of his staff who could not be trusted in a situation such as this one.

The one thing about which I was absolutely certain was that I was not going to escort the Tsarina myself. I have done many things in my life; a good number of them have been interesting, several have been dangerous, and one or two I would never have imagined myself doing until I actually did them. Delivering a baby, though, was not something I intended ever to make the list. I have no medical training beyond a sound knowledge of first aid, and I was fairly sure that the terror of getting something wrong would freeze me up and make me worse than useless.

On arriving back at the Embassy, I put out an urgent memorandum appealing for anyone who could speak Polish to come and see me at once; but half an hour later there was still no response. By this time I had already prepared a flyer and wired London to explain what was happening. All was ready, with the exception of our Polish speaker.

I could, I supposed, send her without one. They would have someone in London. But, given her circumstances, it hardly seemed fair.

And then the idea struck me so suddenly that I laughed. Of _course_ there would be a Polish speaker on Castle Wulfenbach. How could both Gil and I have been so stupid?

I hurried back to my flyer, returned at all speed to Castle Wulfenbach, and asked for Gil. He was still in his study, looking overwrought.

“The more I look at the political implications of all this, the worse they get,” he said gloomily. “Arkadii was a strong ruler. He pulled Russia together out of something pretty close to chaos. I can see that chaos returning very quickly, barring some miracle.”

“Yes, and I'm going to be as worried about that as you very shortly,” I replied, “but first of all, I have to think about the Tsarina. I still need a Polish speaker.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I told you I hadn't got one.”

“Oh, I assure you, you will have,” I said. “Try circulating this memo.” I put a piece of paper down in front of him.

“Ha!” he said. “Ingenious. The great corkscrew brain strikes again. Thank goodness you're a good man, Ardsley, or you'd be the most dangerous person in Europa.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Gil. I hope, though, that I am still dangerous... but only to those forces that wish to destroy the peace.”

“You're that, all right,” said Gil. “You'd better go back to your flyer and wait. If this doesn't get a response within half an hour or so, let me know.”

It did, in fact, get a response within about twenty minutes. A young woman I vaguely recognised walked shyly up to me and curtseyed. I think she must have worked in the kitchens, because I seemed to recall her bringing tea and sandwiches on a few occasions.

“My lord?” she said.

I nodded. “And you are...?”

“Hedwig.”

“Would that by any chance actually be Jadwiga?” I asked, in Polish.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Come and sit in the flyer, then, out of sight.”

I have a communication device in my flyer, and I used it to call Gil. “Can you ask someone to bring the lady over here now?” I asked.

“Oh, you did find someone?” asked Gil's voice.

“Yes. A most patriotic volunteer. I'm sure they will be well rewarded on their return to Poland.”

“H'mm,” said Gil. “Still, with things as they are... All right. I'll send her with Frau Schwertlicht.”

“You will not tell the Baron who I am?” asked Jadwiga anxiously, as I closed the link.

“Of course not. That was in the agreement,” I replied. “Naturally you have no particular reason to trust me, but I assure you I am a man of my word. That memorandum may have come from the Baron, but it was drawn up by me.” I smiled. “And, after all, you are no longer the Polish spy on Castle Wulfenbach, so the Baron need not concern himself with your identity now. A fact of which I promise to remind him, should he decide at any point that he is curious.”

Jadwiga smiled in a way that was half nervous, half conspiratorial. “I think you are a very clever man, my lord. I am not sure I do quite trust you; but I also think I know whom you are helping.”

“Indeed, and that was why you came here, was it not?” I replied. “The memorandum could not be too open, but I knew that any competent spy would have a very good idea what was going on and respond accordingly. Clearly you are a competent spy. Well, I used to be a spy myself, and so I understand how it is. When you reach England, you may stay for a little while if you wish, and then you will be escorted honourably back to Poland, as befits someone who was of invaluable help to one of our strongest allies. And since you know who the lady is, I am sure you will also expect, as I do, that King Wladyslaw will be exceedingly grateful for your efforts.”

Frau Schwertlicht arrived at this point leading the Tsarina, who was wearing her shawl like a headscarf to avoid casual recognition. I stepped out of the flyer and held the door open for her, and she climbed inside without a word. I smiled at Frau Schwertlicht and shook her hand.

“That was quick work, my lord,” she said. “Thank you.”

“She's not in England yet,” I replied. “But she will be very soon, I think.”

“And... your Polish speaker...?”

“Is shrouded in mystery,” I replied. “There is a very good reason for that. Trust me.”

She shrugged briskly. “Well, I see that the Baron certainly does, so I shall follow his example.” She paused. “Safe journey, ma'am,” she called, in Russian.

I stepped back inside the flyer and pulled it away from Castle Wulfenbach. “Your Imperial Majesty,” I said, “here is Jadwiga, who will be escorting you to England.”

“I am so pleased to meet you, Jadwiga,” said the Tsarina. “Since the Ambassador here cannot come with me, I thought I was going to have to make the journey without being able to make anyone understand me.”

We could, I thought, have found a Russian speaker easily enough; but if she has lived in Russia for as long as she has and she still struggles with it, I can hardly blame her for insisting on a Polish speaker at this terrible time. And now we have not only found one, but ensured in the most productive possible way for all parties that there is no longer a Polish spy on board Castle Wulfenbach. I very much doubt they would try sending more than one.

As soon as we landed, I ushered the two ladies aboard the other flyer, whose pilot was ready and waiting to take them to London. I then called at the Russian Embassy to speak to Kuchtanin. He needed to know all this; at least if he could remove the Tsarina from his list of worries, he might be somewhat less inclined to spend the evening staring into the depths of a vodka bottle.

I was shown in, and asked to see him. It is normally the habit of the Russian Embassy here to keep visitors waiting, but Kuchtanin must have given special instructions, because I was taken to his office at once. I gave him an account of everything that had passed.

“Ardsley,” he said, “that is wonderful news! I am so glad to hear that the Tsarina and the heir have been salvaged from the wreckage. Now I can hope again.”

“So I thought,” I replied. “But, for now, I am afraid there is a lot of wreckage to sift through.”

“Yes; but between the two of us and the Baron's people, I think we can make a start on that. Did you say the Baron knows nothing of Andropov?”

“I did, yes.”

He stared into the middle distance. “Young fool. I wonder who's pulling his strings?”

“So do we all,” I said. “But, indeed, you have both our countries on your side. A stable Russia is in the interests of all of us.”

“There will never be another Arkadii,” he said. “He was a remarkable man.”

“He was. But since, sadly, we cannot bring him back, let us at least do all we can to ensure that his vision continues.”

Kuchtanin nodded. “I will drink to that.”

I got the wire from London around tea time. It seemed Jadwiga would not, after all, be returning to Poland; this was because the Tsarina had offered her the position of personal maid, which she had accepted with alacrity. I had wondered if that might happen, but naturally said nothing of my thoughts to Jadwiga. Well, that was not a problem. As long as Jadwiga was both all right and effectively neutralised as a spy, I did not mind whether she was in Poland or London.

The second wire from London arrived the following morning. It announced the safe arrival of Princess Ekaterina Arkadiyevna. So the heir of all Russia was to be another Catherine; an auspicious name, I thought.

There would be a great deal to be done about Russia in the very near future. But for now, I sent a wire back with a message of congratulations, and then walked round to one of the local shops and ordered some baby blankets to be sent to the Tsarina. Heir of all Russia or not, the little Princess was still going to need those, after all.


End file.
